Young Love
by Missbooie
Summary: A young paramedic has captured his heart. Their love is perfect and pure. But nothing ever runs smoothly... Set around series 13.
1. Chapter 1

'Crime lab?' A voice cut through Greg Sanders' thoughts.

'What?'

'You must be from the crime lab.'

'Why?'

'Well. It's 7am. You're eating stake and chips. We're at the one diner that's between the crime lab, the police station and the ambulance station. You're definitely not from the ambulance crew and the police lot don't finish their shifts for another hour.' Greg admired her judgement skills. He glanced towards where she was sat. Ginger-tinted brown hair was scraped into a neat bun, loose pieces of hair fell into her face, perfectly framing her chocolatey eyes. She sat with a book laid out in front of her, tucking into some waffles.

'And what do you do then? Where've you come from?' The woman stifled a laugh, leaving Greg confused.

'Tough shift then?'

'What?' It was too late- or too early. He was tired and just wanted to go home and go to bed.

'You're from the crime lab, so presumably you're supposed to be observant, that's kinda your job, and I'm here, dressed in my full blown ambulance uniform, having already said that it was obvious that you didn't work at the ambulance station. And you still have to ask what I do.' She had walked over to his table and was now stood by his side.

'Oh.' Greg was too tired to take note of what the young woman was saying to him.

'I'm Michelle Humes by the way!' She extended a hand in Greg's direction.

'Greg Sanders.' He shook her hand, surprised by the strength behind it. He looked into her eyes, trying desperately to read the young woman before him but failing to see anything other than a quick, compassionate mind behind her eyes. She glanced down at her wrist, whatever she saw caused panic to register in her eyes.

'I need to go!'

'Are you alright?'

'Yeah- it's just my flatmate. He panics about everything. If I don't get back soon he'll have filled in a missing person report within minutes.' She regained her composure and turned to Greg. 'So- Mr Sanders. I guess I'll see you around.' She playfully punched him on the shoulder.

Greg watched her as she collected up her book from the table, paid, tipped and then left. His eyes continued to follow her to her car and then down the road, he only looked away after she disappeared down a side street. Wow.

'Good day to you all!' It was the start of the graveyard shift. Memories of the morning's talk were still fresh in his mind, they had filled his head all day and now planted a smile on his lips.

Nick groaned in response to Greg's optimistic greeting.

'How are you even alive?'

Yesterday's shift had been busy to say the least. They had been running around non stop for the entire 12 hours, taking its toll on the CSIs. Several of whom hadn't even turned up yet, those that had were still half-asleep and groggy.

'I met someone!' Greg was unable to keep the joy out of his voice. At the thought of romance Nick suddenly perked up.

'Who?'

'Someone.' Greg's voice had reduced to an excited whisper. Nick rolled his eyes.

'Who?! Don't make me shoot it out of you!' Nick reached for his holster where it rested on his hip.

'Fine.' He sighed. 'Michelle Humes. She's beautiful. Funny. Smart.'

'What does she do?'

'Paramedic.'

Finn arrived at the door. Interrupting Nick's interrogation of Greg.

'Triple homicide. Off you go.' She dumped the file on the tables between the men before turning on her heel and walking off down the corridor.

'So what's she like?' Nick started down the corridor, Greg jogged to catch up before falling into Nick's step pattern.

'Well- You know-'

'Yeah- because you're just being so specific!'

'I barely know her. I can't get her out of my head and, well, she's kinda perfect.'

'Toes?'

'She was wearing standard issue black boots. They're probably perfect though.'

Nick nodded and climbed into the truck. Greg obediently followed his lead and climbed into the passenger's seat.

'What so now you're not even going to fight me to drive?!'

'Hm?'

'Wow. This girl's really got inside you're head.' Nick affectionately ruffled Greg's hair before pulling out the truck onto the road.

'Hey Crime Lab.' Greg spun round to where the voice had come from, he mocked surprise as he made eye contact with Michelle. She was sat with her arms crossed across her chest, her empty plate behind her on the table and her dark eyes sparkling with glee.

'Ah hello- I'm dreadfully sorry, I don't remember your name.'

'When's your next day off?' Michelle had instantly seen through Greg's lame attempts to flirt and thought it better to get straight to the point.

'Tomorrow. Why?'

'Dinner at this address. 5pm sharp. I don't like to wait.' She thrust a piece of paper into his hand before pushing past him to get to the door and leave the diner.

Greg nervously rocked back and forth on his heels as he rang the doorbell of Michelle's apartment. She opened the door dressed in a floaty, midnight blue top and pale denim jeans that hugged her figure. Her long wavy hair tumbled, unrestrained down her shoulders and back, just tickling her waist. Greg stood frozen in the doorway.

'Hello?'

'Hm-?'

'Greg.'

'Hm-?'

Michelle laughed her light giggle before steering Greg inside the flat by his hand. She dragged him into the kitchen and pushed him into a chair.

'Hi Greg.'

'Oh- hey Michelle.'

'You're really out of it. Did you know that?'

'What?! No. I'm perfectly fine.'

'Sure you are.' She rolled her eyes. 'Can you set the table for four please? Cutlery and plates are out on the side.'

Greg set to work on the table. As he was just finishing a man came out of one of the bedrooms wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He went over and stood next to Michelle, stirring one of the saucepans.

'Greg. This is Alex. My flatmate.'

'Hi.' He lent over and shook Alex's hand. 'So are you two together?'

Michelle stifled a laugh. 'Oh God no.' She gestured behind where Greg was stood. Greg turned around to find another man, who was stood behind him. 'This is Stu. Alex's partner.'

Greg blushed. He had completely misread the situation and was incredibly worried that he might have offended his host and her friends.

'Right dinner's ready.' She placed four large pots on the table. 'Dig in.'

As instructed the three men began piling their plates with food.

'So what do you do?' Greg nodded to where Alex and Stu sat.

'I teach primary school kids and Stu is my teaching assistant.'

'Meet at work then?'

'No, actually, we met at a bar about 6 years back. Didn't see each other again until about a year and a half later when he started working at my school. Been together ever since.' Stu's gaze had been fixed on Alex the whole time that he had been speaking. Greg couldn't help but smile. He turned his attention to Michelle.

'So- how did you meet Alex then?'

'Uni.' She said through a mouthful of food. 'We were both in a musical theatre group.' She smiled at the memory.

'We weren't exactly very good but we had fun. It certainly broke up the constant studying!'

The evening, though not romantic, was certainly fun and Greg enjoyed himself thoroughly. He was beginning to realise that there were multiple sides to Michelle but he quite liked them all.


	2. Chapter 2

Within weeks they were officially an item. Michelle was a frequent visitor to the crime lab and fitted in well with the team dynamics at the crime lab. Her quick wit and sarcastic mind made her an instant hit. She led multiple first aid training sessions for the CSIs in case it was needed in the field. She also taught more general first aid to all the crime lab techs. In return she was taught about how to preserve the scene, how best to treat patients who would need help from the law and how to present herself in front of a judge and jury.

'Hey.' Michelle leant forward and kissed Greg's lips. Automatically he kissed back but his mind was clearly elsewhere. His gaze remained firmly fixed on the photos laid out in front of him.

'So what's your case about?'

'Technically I can't tell you. You know that.'

'Okay then. What are you doing with these pictures dear?'

'Trying to figure out how a perfectly healthy 29 year old, 6 foot 5 man could be killed by his 24 year old, 5 foot 2 girlfriend. It doesn't make any sense.'

'Okay. COD?'

'Trauma to the chest caused by manual beating. Ribs broke and pierced his lungs and heart. Took some force.'

'More than the girlfriend could possibly provide.'

'Girlfriend claims she did CPR, explaining why she'd be covered in his blood.'

'So what keeps her a suspect?'

'Her knuckles are grazed and one hand is very bruised and we don't know if she did actually do CPR. Coroner can't be sure.'

'Was the victim wearing a jacket?'

'Yeah. Lots of zips. Had been thrown to one side at some point.'

'Did you check all the zips for DNA?'

'Yeah. Nothing.'

'Can I see the X-ray of the vic's chest and also the girlfriend's hands.'

Greg passed her the information.

'Yeah. The cracks in his rips would be representative of CPR but not with a beating. Greg I want you to interlock your hands as if you were about to do CPR.' Obediently he followed. Placing his left hand on top of his right hand. 'Okay now look where your dominant hand is. It's underneath. That's so you can get more power through your arms. Is the girlfriend right or left handed?'

'No idea.'

'Well check. I'd expect her to be left handed based on the fact that the bruising is on that hand.'

Greg left Michelle with his crime scene photos and walked off to find the girlfriend.

'You were right. She's left handed.'

'Thank you!'

'No. Thank you. It pretty much finalises that she did attempt CPR even if she wasn't successful and ended up causing herself harm.'

'Was the girlfriend at home?'

'Yeah. She was upstairs. Having a shower, apparently. She didn't hear anything. No doors opening or closing. No shouts or screams.'

'How many doors are there?'

'Two. Front and garage door.'

'Prints on them?'

'Only the victim's, the girlfriend's and a couple of smudged partials.'

'What about this door?' She picked up one of the photos and showed it to Greg.

'Nope. Wasn't dusted for prints. Didn't know it was there. How did you spot it?'

'There's normally a door leading to the garden but it's not on the plans. My mum had a window thing like this fitted last year. It looks like a large window apart from the one pane thing on the far left. In these pictures the curtains are covering the handle, so currently it just looks like a window.'

'The curtain would have provided perfect cover.'

'Yep. So I guess now you go back to the scene, dust the door and check the curtain for any trace. Thanks Michelle.'

'You're welcome.' A quick kiss was all they had time for before Greg had to rush back to the scene.

'Well?' Michele snaked her hand around his waist.

'You were right. Attacker got in through the window thing, leaving his prints everywhere. Arrested for the guy's murder. I owe you a drink.'

'Dinner.'

'Deal.' Greg pulled her closer before kissing her hair.

'I will see you tomorrow, sweetheart.' Greg kissed her goodbye for the final time before turning and walking off down the stairs of the apartment complex.


	3. Chapter 3

Michele bounded into work with a smile on her face. Last night had been great. Greg had been so gentlemanly and lovely. Her optimistic mood was instantly dampened by the glum faces that greeted her at the ambulance station.

'Someone to see you in the briefing room.' Someone called out as she stood in the doorway. She wandered through to find Nick standing with two other people she recognised as Sara and Morgan.

'Hi guys. Anything I can help you with?' She tried to smile at them but the worry in their faces soon became mirrored in her own. 'Its Greg- isn't it?'

'Yes erm yes it is ma'am.' Nick avoided eye contact with her, instead focusing on her boots. 'He's missing.'

'Missing?'

'Yes. So we believe. He hasn't shown up for work today, he isn't at his flat and no one's seen him since last night. His car's missing too. Do you have any idea where he could have gone?'

'No. I-. No.' She shook her head and perched on the chair next to her.

'When was the last time you saw him?'

'We went to dinner last night. He, erm, he then dropped me back at my house and left around 11.'

'So you've not seen or heard from him since?'

'No. I haven't. Sorry that I can't be more use.'

'I'm sorry this has happened.' Nick turned to face Morgan, who in turn looked towards Michelle.

'You've been relieved of duty for the next few shifts. You're more than welcome to join us at the crime lab if you want.'

'Thanks Morgan. I'll be over soon. I just need to grab a change of clothes from my locker.'

Michelle walked in a dazed state from the briefing room to the locker room. She collected her things and gratefully accepted the ride back to the crime lab with Morgan, Sara and Nick. Her eyes glazed as she stared vacantly out of the window.

'This is your flat yeah?' Nick was pointing to a building on the screen.

'Yes.'

'And Greg left around 11?'

'Yes.'

'Did he say where he was going?'

'Home.'

Nick sighed. So far they had no leads on where Greg was or who was with him. There was nothing that Michelle could tell them that was of any use. There was a pat on his shoulder, drawing him away from his thoughts. It was Michelle.

'He didn't go his usual way home. He said that here was a tonne of traffic on his usual route due to road works but I can't remember what the new route is.'

Nick rewrote the mapped route on the screen, avoiding a small road with road works going on. There was a knock at the door. Brass.

'Patrol officers have found his car. A pretty small lane a couple of miles away. I'll meet you there.'

Nick and Michelle climbed into Nick's car and sped to where Greg's car was.

'Blood.'

'What?'

'Blood.' Nick pointed to some small drops of blood on the road. He pulled out a swab and checked the red liquid. Definitely blood. 'Maybe Greg's.'

'How much?' Michelle was reluctant to ask. She was all too aware how significant blood loss meant death.

'Not enough.' Nick knew what the real question was and answered it instead of the fake one originally posed to him.

Brass approached them from the other side of the car.

'There's no paint transfer or any damage to the exterior of his car. I don't know why he stopped.'

'Maybe he broke down.' Michelle stood up from where she had been crouching next to Nick and walked to the front of the car, then a little way down the road, Nick and Brass ignored her and continued speculating.

'Doubt it. We popped the bonnet and it all looks fine.'

'Then why'd he stop?' The question hung in the air.

'To help.' Michelle's voice found the men.

'What?'

'Someone was here. Look at the mud.'

She was right. There were dents and shoe prints in the mud where it looked like someone had been sitting

'It could have been put there at any point. Loads of walkers and hikers use this lane.'

'How many of them were pregnant?'

Michele's question stunned Brass and Nick, leaving them speechless. Slowly Nick wandered closer to where Michelle was standing.

'That rocks been moved. Maybe by Greg. Whoever was here sat there and leant against it. Still, how do you know they're pregnant?'

'Pregnant women sit back. They lean against things at slight angles because it is more comfortable. Then look at the impressions just lower than the rock. That could be elbows. Pregnant women rest their hands on their stomachs or knees, again because it's more comfortable. Now look at the feet- they're spread a long way apart. This could be nothing or it could be that this person was in labour, or at least pretending to be.'

'Why would Greg stop though?'

'It's Greg. He's kind and caring. He'd do anything to help.' Her heart swelled at the thought of him.

'Does he even know anything about this?'

'Yeah. I had a delivery on my last shift and then told Greg about it in the evening. I told him how to help deliver a baby.'

'You two make quite the couple.'

'Thanks.' Michelle smiled despite herself.

Nick began dusting the rock for prints before making castings of the shoe and elbow impressions. He finished by taking the entire rock with him in the back of his car.

'We'll find him Michelle. I promise.'


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed Greg was leaving a trail for them. A deep purple pickup had been recorded following Greg's car for miles, until it emerged from a country lane connecting to where his abandoned car had been found. The car had been tracked across the city, appearing to stop regularly, just off camera. Every stop became a crime scene, with blood evidence that came back to Greg every time. They followed the trail for days until they hit a dead end. The car that they had been tracking was found, abandoned in a deserted farm yard. It too became a crime scene. Nick sprayed luminol over the back seats of the car. Three distinct letters glowed back at him. Run.

Seconds after they had cleared away from the vehicle it burst into a hot fireball. Without the warning they would have been killed within seconds. Michelle had been to every crime scene, hopeful that she would be the first kind face that Greg saw when he was found. She slowly walked backwards away from the burning car and towards Nick's, desperate for the privacy it could provide. Her foot kicked something and it rattled across the road. Looking down she saw what had made the noise- a shiny disk in a battered plastic case.

'Nick?' She called out, not daring to take her eyes off the disk. The older CSI jogged over to where she stood, following her gaze to the floor. He knelt down and picked up the disk in his gloved hands.

'It's warm. Maybe it was near the car when it exploded.'

'What is it?'

'Come back to the lab and we'll find out.'

'Don't you need to finish processing the scene?'

'Nah- Finn, Sara and Morgan can handle it. Come on.'

The disk, though battered, still worked. Archie played it through the large computer screen so that Nick and Michelle could watch.

A figure sat in the middle of an empty room, tied to a chair with a sack covering his head. A long stick crept into shot and removed the sack. The figure looked like Greg but was thinner, dishevelled and clearly exhausted. Michelle let out a gasp. She hasn't seen Greg this way before and it was horrible.

'Collect me at 079 231. Bring the girl.'

The video cut off.

'They've been monitoring us. They couldn't have known about you any other way.'

'I'm going.'

'No- Michelle it's far too dangerous.'

'I don't care. I can look after myself. And, clearly, there is no other way to get him back. Put a wire on me. Give me a gun. Whatever you want to do to cover your back if this goes south. I'm going.' She stormed out of the AV lab and into the corridor. She ran through tears until she found herself on a bench outside the crime lab. Time was passing, she knew it was, but she didn't care.

Morgan's hand on her back made her jump.

'Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to let you know that your equipment is all set up inside.'

'Equipment?' She sniffed

'Yeah. Nick sorted it all. Now go get our Greg back.'

Michelle smiled. Greg was coming home.


	5. Chapter 5

The coordinates given were to the middle of a deserted warehouse, an extremely creepy deserted warehouse. Her skin began to crawl, her hairs stand on end, as she looked around the giant room. Sat on a chair in the middle was Greg. He looked exhausted and was a bloodied mess. Michelle ran over and embraced him tightly. Neither could believe that the other was truly here. Then the shot rang out.

Michele crumpled into a blood heap on the floor at Greg's feet. She heard a high pitched buzzing that drowned out everything. Waves of other sounds washed over her but she couldn't make out a single word. She could feel her shoulder burning, a metallic smell was starting to fill her nostrils and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Despite her efforts she fell in to the darkness that has been creeping into her mind and slipped into unconsciousness.

'Okay so fill me in on what you know so far.' Russell had just returned from a conference in Seattle. He wasn't supposed to be back for another three days but he cut the trip short when he had eventually been informed about Greg's unfortunate fate.

'We know that Greg and Michelle were together last night. Here.' Morgan placed a pin in the Vegas map to show where Michelle lived.

'And his car was found here.'

Sara placed another pin in the map.

'Nick and Michelle were given the coordinates for an abandoned warehouse. Finn went with them as did a load of uniforms- still waiting to hear back from them.'

A third pin was placed on the map.

'Do we know who's been doing this?' Russell had been silently taking in all the information that the girls provided him with. He knew that if they had any idea who was behind this they would have told them.

'No but-' Morgan was interrupted by Sara's phone ringing.

'Its Nick.' The room fell silent. Russell and Morgan couldn't make out what was being said down the phone but Sara's face told them everything they needed to know.

'Michelle's been shot.'


	6. Chapter 6

'Female. 36 years old. Single GSW to right shoulder. Entry wound but no exit wound. GCS of 3 throughout. Intubated on site. BP low at 80/50. Heart rate elevated at 110 BPM.'

'Male. 38 years old. Dehydrated. Superficial wounds to arms and legs. Possible broken ribs on both sides of the chest. GCS of 13 throughout. BP holding steady at 85/60. Heart rate at 90 BPM.'

The doctors and nurses of Desert Palms Hospital got to work on Michelle and Greg. Establishing IV lines, assessing injuries and planning treatment. Michelle was whisked off to theatre while Greg was sent off for a number of scans.

Time ticked on. The team were no closer to finding out who the shooter was, Michelle was still in theatre and Greg was asleep on the ward, having fallen asleep waiting for the feedback on his scans. Morgan sat by Greg's bed side, watching him. The IV that dripped into his hand synced with the steady beeping of the monitor. A wave of calm washed over Morgan as she sat and watched Greg's chest slowly rise and fall. Suddenly everything fell out of sync. The beeping on the monitor increased in speed, he drew shorter, more frequent breaths and started to sweat. Morgan pushed the 'Call' button by the side of the bed. Seconds later two of Greg's nurses walked in and rushed to his side.

"He's having a panic attack."

"We need to wake him up."

The nurses ignored Morgan's presence and started to wake Greg up, reassuring him that he was safe now. Morgan squeezed his hand to let him know that she was there. She felt a faint squeeze in return, causing her to tear up.

The nurses managed to wake Greg up and calm him down before he did any major damage to himself. He attempted to talk.

"Mi-Mic-"

"Michelle's in surgery. I don't know what's happening- sorry."

Tears started to tumble down his face.

"My. F-fau-lt."

"Now you listen to me Mr Gregory Hojem Sanders. None of this was your fault. None of it."

"Mm 'kay."

Greg was beginning to fall asleep once again. This time he remained in a peaceful sleep.

The story from the other side of the hospital was very different. The atmosphere, though controlled, was anything but peaceful. Tensions were high among the doctors and nurses in the operating room.

"Suction please."

"How's it looking?"

"Like a bullet ripped through it. Pretty bad."

"Is the shoulder blade shattered?"

"No. But it is broken. The collarbone is shattered from the impact. I'll need to wire this into place."

Silence fell over the operating room. Previously eager F2s stood back to allow the main surgeons room to work, pinning and wiring her shoulder carefully back together.

"Greg." Morgan was gently shaking his thigh, however this barely rose him from his sleep, she tried shaking him slightly harder, cautiously as not to damage him, then she took his hand in her own and squeezed it while repeating his name.

"Yeah... What?" Greg's voice was groggy with exhaustion and dehydration.

"Michelle's out of surgery. It went well but she's still under and is being closely monitored for the next few days." Greg's mind cleared with the mention of Michelle.

"See her?"

"Not yet. You need to rest. Seriously Greg you do- don't even think about trying to sneak out on me. I'll check on her as soon as you go back to sleep."

Michelle lay perfectly still. Her shoulder was wrapped in layers of bandages and had been placed in a sling across her chest that slowly rose and fell. Tubes were everywhere. Some ran down her throat, others in her hand, others were lost beneath the blanket that covered her pale body. Her long brown hair had been cleaned of blood and lay spread out on the pillow, framing her sleeping face. Morgan pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat, enclosing Michelle's hand in her own. Sat listening to the steady rhythm of the machines allowed her to drift off, only to be awoken hours later by her phone vibrating.

"Hey Morgan its Russell."

"Oh. Hi." She replied, still groggy from sleep.

"Morgan where are you?"

"The hospital- why?"

"Where exactly?" Russell was becoming increasingly agitated.

"In Michelle's room in ICU. I'm sat by her bed. Why?"

"Don't move."

"Russell- what's going on?"

"I'm sending uniforms to the hospital now. Morgan, Michelle was the original target."


	7. Chapter 7

"Kyle Warren. Ex Army Medic. Worked with various civilian ambulance services under a large number of people, including under Michelle. He worked for Michelle for six months. Following disciplinary action that cost him his job, he never worked again. He had complaints filed against him due to stalking. Nothing too serious though, nothing else like this has popped up on his record then he got himself involved in a car accident involving a pedestrian. In the report he claims that the pedestrian just walked out in front of the car. The pedestrian was a former Corporal in the army. One of the men who requested that Warren was discharged from the army. This was a month ago. The case is still awaiting its day in court."

"Meanwhile this nutter is still on the rampage. And escalating. From car crashes to kidnapping and attempted murder. Where did he even get the gun?" Nick butted in from Russell's speech.

"Gun shop near where he lived. Bought it with his army ID not long after being discharged."

"So how do we find him?"

"Let me." Greg was leaning against the doorframe, struggling to keep himself upright. Nick ran forward and grabbed Greg around his waist to stop him slumping go the floor.

"What the hell are you doing here Greg?!" Nick half yelled at Greg.

"Must help."

Sara pulled a chair into the doorway and helped Nick to ease Greg into the chair.

"Okay Greg. We believe that the man responsible for all this is named Kyle Warren. Name ring any bells?"

"No. Sorry Russell."

"What about the face?" He brought a photo over to where Greg was sat.

"No. It was a woman who I met. Then I was in and out if trucks, bags and then these stupid masks..." His voice faded away as he began to drift back into his memories. Nick gently shook him back to reality.

"What did the woman look like?"

"Short. Petite frame. Heavily pregnant. Short cropped ginger hair. Green eyes. Nose piercing."

"Right. Let's see if Mr Warren has any sisters, daughters, a wife, a girlfriend. Anything that could lead us to this woman. She's his accomplice."

The search was fruitless. No matter how hard they tried to find the mystery woman they couldn't find a trace of her. She was a ghost. Greg had been driven back to the hospital by Nick and Russell immediately after Russell set the rest of the team to work. Having left Greg in the care of his nurses at the hospital, Nick and Russell stopped by in ICU to check on Morgan and Michelle.

"How is she?"

"The same. She's in a really bad way Russell. I don't want Greg to see her like this- it'll only upset him."

"Yes, but we can't keep him hidden away from the world like this. He deserves more. I will take him to see Michelle myself and, if things get out of hand, I can sort it there and then."

"Sounds like a good enough plan."

"Oh and Morgan."

"Yeah?" Two tired eyes stared back at him.

"Get some rest."

Obediently Morgan stood and left the small hospital room, heading towards the carpark. Upon arriving at her car she got in and sat, rested her head against the steering wheel and sobbed.

"Greg. Are you sure you want to do this?" Nick was wheeling Greg away from his hospital room and towards Michelle's room in ICU. Unlike Greg, Nick knew the state that Michelle was lying in and it only made him more determined that they would catch whoever did this to her. Nick's own thoughts wandered away from him, until a cough from Greg snapped him back to the present. They had arrived at the room. The number of uniformed police officers surrounding the ICU was alarming, and for Greg, overwhelming. The reality of the situation was beginning to sink in, something that he simply wasn't ready for. Still he pushed on. Persuading himself to see Michelle, after all he did love her. No amount of love could have prepared him for what he saw. She was a mess. A scruffy collage of bandages and wires. Her once bubbly eyes were shut closed, hidden from the world. Nick began to explain her injuries and treatment plan to him but it was hopeless- the meaningless words echoed through the cavern of his mind.

After an eight day stay in hospital Greg was discharged to the care of the rest of the team at his home. Physically he was healing but psychologically there was no improvement. He carried the same haunted look in his eyes that had enslaved his previously joyful face since he first saw Michelle. It was a further three days before Michelle saw any improvement, by now her tracheotomy tube had been removed from her throat but she still lay deeply unconscious in ICU. Greg never left her bedside.

"Please say we have SOMETHING!" Russell sighed, exhaustedly. After the initial identification of Kyle Warren the trail had gone cold. The gun had been bought then used to shoot Michelle. That was it. The women was still a mystery. BOLOs had been issued for both Kyle Warren and his mystery woman. All the hospitals in the surrounding area had been put on alert, should the woman come in to have her baby, but by now they could be anywhere.

"We've got nothing." Sara replied. She felt terrible- the least she should be doing as an investigator would be to find whoever ruined her friend's life.

The phone started to ring. Russell grabbed the receiver.

"This is Lab Director Russell at the Vegas crime lab."

"Desert Palms Hospital. Nurse Taylor speaking. We have just admitted a 28 year old female to our labour and delivery ward. Seems to match the description of a suspect you're looking for." This was good news. Not only had they found the suspect, she wasn't going anywhere soon. "Goes by the name of Deborah Finch-Warren." Russell turned to Sara and Morgan.

"Run Deborah Finch-Warren- see if you get anything." He turned his attention back to the phone.

"And there's a man with her. Kyle Warren. He's pretty freaked out."

"Thank you so much Nurse Taylor. Just to let you know- there'll be uniforms coming down from upstairs to arrest them both. Please remember that Kyle Warren may be armed."

"Will do. Glad I could help."

The line went dead.

"She's an con artist and part time thief. Was arrested as Deborah Finch in '02 and spent some time in juvie. Released in '05 and police haven't heard from her since. A marriage was never recorded. No children or family on record other than a brother who's doing a life sentence in Florida." Morgan reeled off Deborah's troubled background to Russell.

Uniforms invaded the labour and delivery ward. They were directed by nurse Taylor to the room where the suspects were being housed. Lying on the bed was a short, petite red head with emerald eyes. She lay groaning in pain through contractions.

"Kyle Warren. Deborah Finch. You are under arrest for the kidnapping of CSI Greg Sanders and the attempted murder of Paramedic Michelle Humes." The officer read both suspects their Miranda Rights before handcuffing them, Deborah to her bed and leading Kyle away in hand cuffs, back to the police station.

Two uniformed officers were in the room with Deborah, two more outside her door. They clearly showed where she was. Greg, having caught wind of the commotion surrounding the hospital took the lift to the labour and delivery ward where he found her door and burst in, officers trying to pull him back. Deborah lay back on the bed, her legs in the stirrups, her face red and sweaty as she pushed.

"You bitch! You ruined everything! I tried to help you! And you try to kill my girlfriend!" He shouted and swore at her until he was exhausted. He then allowed the uniformed officers to pull him out of the room into her awaiting arms of Nick, who had followed Greg at a distance down from ICU. There, he sobbed, his body shaking with emotion.

"I can't lose her! She's the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

Nick muttered comforting words into Greg's ear as he cried. Gently he guided Greg away from the ward and towards the cafe where he bought them both a coffee and a muffin. He sat Greg opposite him and watched him painstakingly slowly open the muffin.

"Have you even been eating?"

The sobs had subsided now but the pained look remained.

Nick had a shrug in response.

"Greg?"

"Sometimes the nurses have me something to eat. A drink. A sandwich."

Nick looked hard at Greg. He was a shell of a man. His beach blond hair was longer than it had been in years, falling over his ears and catching his collar at the back. His normally clean shaven face was rough with harsh stubble. The bags under his eyes were deep indigo and seemed to stretch on to oblivion. His clothes were wrinkled and needed a wash. This was not the Greg Sanders he knew.

"I'm taking you home." Greg had barely touched his muffin and coffee.

"No. I need to stay here. With Michelle."

"No. You need a hot shower, a warm bed and a good meal inside you. Then we can come back."

"She's all alone in there."

"Morgan's there. The nurses are there. The doctor's there. You don't need to be there too."

Greg finally gave in. He allowed Nick to escort him out of the building and to his car. Nick strapped him in the passenger seat before climbing into the driver's seat and pulling out of the parking space.

Nick forced Greg into the bathroom, equipped with a new razor, fresh towels, clean pyjamas and Greg's favourite shower gel and shampoo. While Greg washed Nick prepared dinner. Soup, then pasta and meatballs, followed by a microwave sponge cake and custard. Nick gave Greg smaller portions but was pleased to see him finish everything out in front of him. He was even looking better. Some of the colour had returned to his face, now shaven and clean. His hair, although still long, was still damp, forming gentle curls against his head. The pyjamas were big on him, loose around the hips. Nick noticed Greg's change in weight but let it pass without comment. Greg brushed his teeth before being shown to his room. Nick's spare room had been set up ready with clean sheets and pillows. Gratefully Greg slid under the covers and closed his eyes. Nick left the room, silently closing the door behind him. He stood around the corner from the room, waiting for the slightest sound of disturbance from inside. Nothing. The silence that had settled around him was oddly comforting. Nick fell asleep on his sofa, fully clothed and fully intending on waking up soon to make Greg a proper breakfast, forcing him to eat it if he must, before driving the young man to the hospital.

It was a routine that lasted weeks. Greg would wake alone in his house, throw on some clothes from the pile next to his bed and then drive to the hospital where he would sit by Michelle's bedside until Nick, Morgan, Finn, Sara or Russell dragged him out. His colleagues were doing the best they could to keep him alive. They shared spare keys to sneak into his flat, topping up the fridge and cupboards, washing clothes and cleaning the flat. Not that Greg noticed. He was a robot, repeating the same tasks daily simply for the reason to keep himself alive.

It was three weeks and four days after she was shot that Michelle began to wake up. Russell had given Greg as much time off as he needed to recover from the 'incident' and get back to full strength. While Greg had spent every waking moment at the hospital the team had been building a case against Kyle and Deborah, one that would lock away both of them for at least 20 years.

Michelle's eyelids began to flutter and a moan escaped her lips as she moved slightly before quickly stilling again, her eyelids continued to flutter and twitch until they started opening, squinting at the bright was of the lights around her. Her breathing increased as she tried to understand what was going on around her. She remembered seeing Greg on the chair and then a shot ringing out. Was he okay? Did the bullet kill him? A warm, gentle squeeze of her hand told her that she wasn't alone. She forced her eyes to adjust to the surroundings until she could make out a figure at her bedside. His sandy blond hair was tousled and long, his usually clean-shaven face was covered in a thick layer of prickly stubble, he looked exhausted with thick black circles framing lifeless eyes. She began to squeeze his hand that remained interlocked with hers, the simple action sending hope flooding into his face.

"Greg?"

Although her voice was hoarse and quiet the words sounded life a beautiful song to Greg. He couldn't control the tears of joy that began trickling down his face, these caused Michelle to start crying too, the pair let the tears fall with no attempt to stop them. Their joy was interrupted by a doctor in a crisp white coat who walked in holding a clipboard.

"Michelle. I'm Dr Whitehurt. I was your surgeon" The man gestured to her arm in its sling. "You were shot, lost a lot of blood, shattered your collarbone and broke your shoulder blade. We have pinned and wired your collar bone back together and plated your shoulder blade. You were very lucky indeed. We will keep you in for observation for another week or so and then you can go home, provided that there is someone who can look after you." And he walked back out again. Leaving Michelle to deal with the overwhelming amount of information she was presented with. She glanced up as another two figures walked into the room. Alex and Stu. They had been visiting every day after work to check on her progress.

"I'm very disappointed that you woke up with out me." Alex smiled as he planted a kiss on Michelle's forehead.


	8. Chapter 8

It was two weeks until she was discharged into the care of Greg, Alex and Stu. Another two months until she started physio and a further three months until she went back to work.

Slowly, things were going back to normal- Greg was eating normally again, he'd cut his hair and was now showering and shaving regularly. The happiness and joy usually so engraved in his face were returning. Kyle and Deborah were locked away after a successful trial, their infant son adopted by a pair of accountants.

"Date night!" Greg whispered excitedly under his breath as he rung the doorbell to her flat. He had an evening planed of romance and laughter. First the cinema to see the new rom-com Michelle had begged him to see then to a small restaurant off the beaten track renowned for its pasta and patisserie. He rang the doorbell again, this time adding a knock- maybe the bell wasn't working or she was in the shower or still getting ready. Greg checked his watch- 7:45. They had agreed to meet at 7:30, dinner reservations were at 10:00 following the showing of the movie at 8:00. She was only 15 minutes late- not a problem. He rang the doorbell yet again and knocked, harder this time. Still nothing. He dialled her mobile instead.

"Hey. You've reached Michelle."

"Hi Michelle its Greg."

"Hello?!"

"Michelle. It's Greg."

"Hello?!"

"Michelle. It's GREG." He was nearly shouting down the phone now.

"Just kidding. I'm not here. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you." Greg silently cursed. He completely forgot that Michelle had changed her message to mess with Alex. He left a quick message before ramming his phone in his pocket and heading back down stairs to where he had parked his car. He dropped the chocolate bouquet of flowers onto the passenger seat and dialled Alex's number- he always knew where she was.

"Hi Greg. What's up?"

"Sorry to interrupt your date Alex but do you know where Michelle is?"

"I thought she was with you..." A silence settled on the phone line.

"I'm going to the ambulance station. Her shift should have finished 2 and a half hours ago." It was nearly 8:30

"I'll meet you there."

"No, Alex. Stay with Stu. I'll keep you updated."

The line went dead before Alex got a chance to argue. Greg redialled his phone as he set off to find Michelle.

"Russell- I need a favour..."

Russell soon called him back with the information he needed. Greg thanked his colleague and punched in the address into the cars SatNav. In just under an hour he arrived at an abandoned barn house, parking his car next to Michelle's. A wave of deja-vu washed over him. He had definitely been here before. He followed a mud path round to the entrance of the barn. Michelle was stood in the centre of the barn, her back facing the entrance, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Silently Greg slipped his arm around her, letting her sink into his chest and sob in the safety of his compassion. He said nothing, waiting for her to be the first to speak.

"It was here. I nearly died. I nearly lost everything and everyone." He suddenly understood why this place felt so familiar. It was where he had been taken and where Michelle had been shot.

"I had a pair of gunshot victims today. Only one of them made it. It could have been a murder suicide. The murder failed, the suicide succeeded. He was shot in the shoulder; she shot herself in the head while sat in a chair. What if that was us? What if you were shot too? What I didn't make it? What if your team didn't get them?"

"But they did get to us. We did make it. We are here, together."

She stopped crying and stared Greg square in the face.

"It shook me Greg. It scared me. I've been trying to get it out of my head but I just can't do it. How do you get over it?"

"You don't." The answer echoed in the emptiness of the barn. "You take each day as a new chance to prove how grateful you are for the second or the third or the fourth chance you got at life. When it happens, it happens. Until then enjoy your life. Take each day as it comes. Hope. That's what you need Michelle. Hope."

His phone started vibrating in his jacket pocket. At first he ignored it but Michelle reached in and grabbed it. A look of confusion spread across her face as she read the caller ID.

"Why's my flatmate calling you?"

"Because I called you multiple times and you didn't answer, I was banging on the door like a lunatic." He grabbed his phone off her and answered Alex's questions calmly while keeping a close eye on Michelle."

"Date night." She muttered. "I forgot all about date night."

Greg covered the mouthpiece of his phone.

"Yes you did. Dinner?" He whispered.

He handed the phone over to Michelle as he guided her back to the car. They pulled up at Greg's apartment block the same time that the pizza delivery guy did. He paid the delivery man before carrying the pizza into the flat. Michelle lay herself across the sofa, claiming it as her own as Greg sorted napkins, forks, plates and drinks. He slipped himself at the top of the sofa, under Michelle's head and stroked her hair as they talked the night away, she sat up and leant against his shoulder while they ate before returning to her lying position. Michelle fell asleep on his sofa. Carefully he picked her up and took her into his bedroom. He tucked her under the covers while leaving a glass of water, spare toothbrush and a change of clothes next to her in case she woke up and wanted to change.

"Goodnight Michelle." Gently he kissed her forehead and turned off the lights, closing the door behind him. Greg made a make shift bed on the sofa out of spare pillows and blankets after changing into his own pyjamas.

That night Michelle slept the best she had done for what seemed like an eternity. No hooded or masked demons haunted her, no gunshots echoed through her mind, no funeral possession for Greg.


	9. Chapter 9

After Michelle's late night wobble all seemed to be going very well for the couple. They slipped back into their old habits, meeting for breakfast after their nightshifts, dinner for their day shifts. Syncing their days off and spending them at theme parks, water parks and at each other's apartments watching movies with pizza. It was then, after Christmas that they had to start planning a wedding. They both had to pick out complimentary outfits, organise flowers, menus and cakes and help to send out invitations. Not their wedding, of course. Stu had proposed to Alex on Christmas Eve. The answer was inevitable and now the two were due to be married the following winter. Alex's only family was his mother while Stu was only in touch with his two twin sisters so the pair enrolled Greg and Michelle to help them as their official wedding planners. The colour scheme for the wedding was green. Both men were to wear matching black suits with emerald green cummerbund and black silk bow ties. Michelle was Alex's best man while Stu chose Greg. The four had developed a unique friendship over the last year or so that they all treasured. Michelle was set to wear a dark turquoise dress while Greg wore a black suit and matching turquoise tie. He had never had such a large roll to play in a wedding and he felt proud of what he had achieved. In a tiny chapel in the middle of Las Vagas the two tied the knot surrounded by a handful of their closest friends and colleagues. Snow gently fell around the chapel as the two shared their first kiss as a married couple. The following morning they flew to Australia for a honeymoon, they would spend Christmas on a beach, surfing in the sun, although the flight would last forever and the time difference was 17 hours they knew that they would have an amazing trip.

After dropping off the lovebirds at the airport at 5 am both Michelle and Greg set off to work with the promise that they would meet for drinks later.

"Ambulance 93 please respond to a call to a female patient, age unknown, condition unknown." The dispatchers listed the address as a tiny village just behind the crime lab. It took just 3 minutes for the medics to arrive. Today Michelle was partnered with one of her favourite medics- Daz. Darren 'Daz' Singleton was one of the more mature paramedics; he was due to retire at the end of January in the new year. Married with two adult children, Daz's endless supply of dad-jokes kept whoever he was partnered with amused. He was also an incredibly talented medical mind who managed to stay calm under the most unusual circumstances.

They knocked twice on the door while ringing the bell. On the third knock they saw a figure at the window just in time to watch it vomit blood over the window's thin blinds. Michelle kicked the door until the lock gave way, running to where the figure now lay. She was dead. Her eyes were open but they weren't looking anywhere- they were pitch black, her cheeks stained with bloody tears, her entire front room seemed to be covered in blood and vomit. This was no ordinary call out.

"Daz. Get a message through to dispatch and let them know that we'll need a ME and maybe the police too." As he radioed for the additional personel, Michelle turns the woman's head to one side. There was a large bruise on her neck surrounding a puncture wound. This was not natural. In the distance she could hear sirens of a fast approaching police car. The CSIs were the first on the scene, Morgan and Greg were quickly introduced to Daz before they moved over to the body.

"I've read about this but I don't remember what it was." Michelle voiced her thoughts to the group. A flash of panic crossed Greg's face. He knew what it was.

"Close all the doors and windows. Alert the hazard guys and let them know we may have a bio weapon on the loose. I've seen this before." Obediently Morgan and Michelle closed all the windows and doors on the property while Daz radioed for more help. Silence had settled over the room as each individual had come to terms with the gravity of the situation.

Years later a team of six astronauts entered the building their white biohazard suits rustling as they walked. The four potentially infected figures were given a white suit of their own to wear so that they couldn't infect anyone else. Michelle mouthed a message to Greg as she put on her suit. "I love you." Greg just smiled in response and blew her a kiss before pulling his helmet in front of his face. The four were lead out like prisoners to a larger van, a similar colour to their suits. The four 'astronauts' were loaded into their ship and transferred into yet another white container, this time the container had air conditioning. Greg only noticed this when he saw his suit fog up as he breathed hot air against the cool plastic of the window. They were lead to a enclosure with four separate plastic domes touching one another and joining at one central point. Each dome had a short tube leading to it, each tube had two doors, one leading into the corridor and one leading into the dome itself. Greg was lead to his dome, Daz to his, Morgan to hers and Michelle to hers. The plastic was clear so that they could all see each other but there were also black rolls at the top of each dome so that the inhabitant could block out the others for privacy. In each dome there was a bed, which looked more like a hospital trolley, two pillows in crisp white pillowcases, a thin duvet, again in a crisp white cover, two furry felt blankets at the foot of the bed, one bright red, the other a deep purple, the opposite side of the room there was a desk with a plastic chair, notepads, pens, pencils and a laptop. There were even books and games in the draws of the desk. Everything seemed to be accounted for, well most things.

"What do we do if we need to pee?" Daz was the first to ask the burning question. A man stood just beyond the bubbles answered him.

"There are toilets just around the corner. You will have to wear your suit there and will have to be in a dome but we have made sure that your privacy is a top priority." He turned back to the group, clicking on a small microphone that broadcasted to an even smaller speaker system in the domes. "You can all pull the black covers down over your dome for privacy at any point. There are a change of clothes available for you in the last draw of the desk. Most standard sizes are there so you should find something that fits." As he spoke the medics and CSIs searched for their sizes in the grey t-shirts and black jogging bottoms. "I know it's not the best but you will also have to change into the underwear provided." They searched deeper into the draw to find an assortment of underwear, bras and socks. "All your clothes must be taken and tested. It's highly likely that they will have to be incinerated. Sorry about that. You don't need to wear the space suits when you're inside the bubbles so you can leave them just outside the first door. Food will be delivered at 8am, 1pm and 6pm, water is in the fridge along with some snacks if you get hungry. I'm Alex Kistro and I'm head of research for infectious diseases. Sorry that you're suck with us but we hope you enjoy your stay."

'We hope you enjoy your stay?' That's what you hear on holiday, not when you find out you may be about to die from some horrific, unidentified, disease.

One by one, each of the potentially infected specimens was lead to the decontamination showers where they scrubbed themselves raw, until they were clean of any disease causing pathogens on their skin. They were then instructed to enter a set of changing rooms were they changed from their original clothes into the ones provided, discarding their suits and clothes to be tested before being burnt. They found a new suit waiting now for them just before the exit of the bubble.

Daz glanced round at the three others in the bubbles around him, now all wearing identical outfits. Greg was reading a book, Morgan was typing furiously on the computer and Michelle was lying on her bed, starring out into the nothingness. Daz thought of his family, his two sons and his wife, when was the last time he'd seen his sons? He couldn't even remember. It was only 5pm, Gwen wasn't expecting him home for at least another hour or two. He wandered whether someone had been sent to his house to tell his wife what was going on. She deserved to know. A commercial pilot, she was used to not seeing her husband for extended periods of time but they always knew each other was safe. Now no one knew if they were safe, or if the deadly pathogen was already multiplying inside them, a ticking time bomb.


End file.
